


Full of zest

by frostysunflowers



Series: simply having a wonderful christmas time [8]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Allergic reaction, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Gen, Humor, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, have yourself a hailing and frosty christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28227714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: "Kid? What’s with all the fidgeting? You look like you got ants in your pants.""I don’t know," Peter grunts as he scratches his chest. "Just feel really itchy."Pepper looks up from where she’s cutting stars into the discarded orange peels. "Itchy where?"orWhat's Christmas without a little allergic reaction?
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: simply having a wonderful christmas time [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041610
Comments: 33
Kudos: 385





	Full of zest

**Author's Note:**

> Tis meee again with more festive fun. Enjoy!

"Does Santa know Bigfoot?"

Tony pauses in his slicing of oranges to share an amused smirk with Pepper across the kitchen table, then hums loudly in thought. "I don’t know, baby. What do you think?"

Morgan mimics his humming, tapping a finger on her chin. "Maybe the Abomnal Snowman?"

Pepper’s smile grows at the cute, childish mispronunciation. "I guess someone has to guard the workshop when Santa’s not there."

Morgan nods in agreement and resumes her task of carefully cutting coloured pieces of string into different lengths. Tony shares another look with Pepper, getting that familiar rush of fuzzy warmth that always comes during moments like this. 

He’d missed it all last year, locked in sleep while the world tried to pull all the dropped stitches of life back into the bigger picture. Sometime after he’d woken up, Pepper had shown him pictures of the Christmas he’d slept through: a giant pot of mac and cheese in place of the usual oversized turkey with all the trimmings, Morgan and Rhodey sitting by his bedside in matching Santa hats playing with a pair of new dolls, and the homemade decorations that Pepper had tasked Morgan with making in order to keep her mind distracted from the fact that her dad might breathe his last breath at any moment. 

There were a few of Peter too, dressed in a hideous Christmas jumper, eating a leftover sandwich and, in one picture that left Tony close to tears, dozing in a chair with his feet propped up by Tony’s on the bed and Morgan curled up in his lap. 

So needless to say, Tony feels more than determined to make up for his absence last year, and decking the cabin out in a seemingly endless amount of Christmas decorations is an absolutely essential part of that plan. 

Peter getting stranded in the snow and having a twenty-four hour attack of the sniffles had _not_ been part of that plan, but Tony can’t say that he’s sad about that death trap of a car finally biting the dust. Plus the ridiculous amount of soup that Happy made and portioned into pots for the freezer would definitely come in handy when they were all sick of eating turkey. 

The soft thud of footsteps on the stairs catches his ear. "Ah! There’s the human popsicle. How you feeling, kid?"

"Better," Peter smiles as he bounces off the last step and stretches his arms over his head. 

"Yeah, actually getting some proper rest for once will do that for you."

Peter yawns. "Still kinda tired though. And I officially hate snow from this moment forward."

"No you don’t," Tony scoffs. "Ten bucks says you’ll be out there in it again as soon as Morgan asks you to build a snowman. She nearly convinced Rhodey and Happy to do the same thing at the crack of dawn before they left."

Still stretching, Peter asks, "Where’d they go?"

Tony shrugs. "Last minute Christmas shopping I guess. Or stocking up on supplies before the storm picks up again. Rhodey like to indulge his sweet tooth around the holidays."

"So it’s just me and you, Petey!" Morgan chirps. 

Peter drops his arms and mirrors the bright grin that Morgan throws at him, mischief dancing all over his face. 

"No snowmen until tomorrow," Pepper says firmly, tying a ribbon around another candy cane which she then points at Peter. "You’re meant to be resting ‘til then, so grab something to eat and get comfy, mister."

"But - "

"May’s orders," Pepper interrupts, gesturing once more with the candy cane. "She’ll be here later and she expects to see you on that couch, so you better park yourself there because I am not breaking the mom code for a snowman."

With a halfhearted pout, Peter nods and shuffles towards the fridge. As he passes by Tony, his entire body shudders. 

"The hell was that?" Tony demands. "Are you still cold?"

"No! No, honestly, I feel fine - Mister Stark!" Peter bats away Tony’s outstretched hand with an exasperated laugh. "S’just a random shiver, that’s all."

Tony narrows his eyes but allows Peter to pass, resuming his slicing of oranges when Morgan taps him impatiently on the arm. "Hurry up, Daddy."

Though he sticks out his tongue, Tony does as he’s told while Peter rummages around in the cupboards behind him, eventually reappearing by his side with a huge bowl of cereal almost full to the brim with milk. 

"Your eating habits disgust me."

Peter scoops up an entire spoonful and slowly puts it into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously as he nods at the mess of things on the table. "Wass’at?"

Tony playfully shoves him. "It’s get away from me with your cornflake breath, you heathen."

"We’re making decorations," Morgan explains when Peter looks to her for an answer. "To go on the tree."

Peter nods, looking at the mess on the table. "Out of oranges?"

"And juice pops," Pepper adds as she holds up one of the little wooden stick trees. 

"I think I remember those from last year," Peter says around another mouthful. "Don’t remember these though," he adds, looking at the orange slices as Tony adds a few more to the small collection. "They for the tree?"

"Something Jarvis used to do when I was a kid," Tony explains, flicking a discarded chunk of peel off his chopping board. "Give it a little while and this place will smell like Christmas."

Peter balances his bowl in the crook of his left arm and scratches absently at his chest. "Good, ‘cause all the Yankee candle knockoffs you bought aren’t doing that job well enough."

Tony grabs a tea towel and swats him away while Pepper laughs. Morgan pays them little mind, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she continues to arrange the pieces of string into neat rows. The next half an hour or so passes by in a cosy little haze, quiet laughter mixing in with the audience track on whatever show Peter is watching, curled up on the armchair beneath a fluffy blanket with his replenished bowl of cereal balanced on his knees. He’s not as restful as Tony expected him to be however; every minute or so, he fidgets, kneading at his arm or wriggling in a way that seems to rub his back against the cushions. 

"Kid? What’s with all the fidgeting? You look like you got ants in your pants."

"I don’t know," Peter grunts as he scratches his chest. "Just feel really itchy."

Pepper looks up from where she’s cutting stars into the discarded orange peels. "Itchy where?"

_"Everywhere,"_ Peter whines, holding his bowl up with one hand as he kicks himself free of the blanket, almost toppling off the chair. The bowl lands with a clatter on the coffee table and Peter sets about rubbing his torso and back vigorously, hissing loudly through his teeth. 

Morgan giggles. "You look like you’re dancing."

Peter attacks his legs next, scratching through the thick material of his grey sweatpants. "I wish I was!"

Tony wipes his sticky hands on his jeans and heads over, not bothering to ask before taking hold of the back of Peter’s sweater and pulling the collar back slightly. Peter’s flailing arms knock him away before he can get a good look. "Pete, let me see - "

His words catch in his throat as he spots the red, angry rash creeping up the side of Peter’s neck. He turns a panicked gaze over his shoulder at Pepper. "Think we got ourselves an allergic reaction."

"What?" Peter yelps as Pepper hurries towards them, cupping Peter’s jaw and angling his head up so she can look at his neck. She manages a quick peek down the side of his sweater, then turns a narrow glare onto Tony. 

"You did check none of the candles had peppermint in them, right? And that the candy canes are definitely raspberry flavour?"

"Of course I did. Twice. The only thing in here associated with the word pepper right now is you."

"Is Peter gonna need a shot like I did when I ate those strawberries?" Morgan asks as Pepper picks up a few of the nearest candle jars and reads the stickers on the back. 

"Hopefully not, honey." Tony prods Peter’s chin. "You can breathe, right? No swollen tongue? Open up, lemme see."

"No! What, you don’t need to see my tongue - "

"I was there for the peppermint spritz incident, Parker, so yes I do need to see your tongue. Out with it."

Petulantly, Peter sticks his tongue out with such force that his entire face screws up. Tony peers closely at it, finding no signs of swelling, but he does notice the splotches of red on Peter’s jaw, right where Pepper’s fingers had touched. 

"Oh, jeez, kid, please tell me you aren’t allergic to actual human contact now."

"Just you," Peter retorts, resuming his vigorous scratching. "Ahh, I feel like I’m on fire!"

He wrestles the sweater off, along with the t-shirt he’d been wearing underneath it, and Tony curses so loudly at the furious mess of livid red hives covering almost all of Peter’s upper body that Morgan giggles in scandalised delight. 

Peter wastes no time in attacking his skin, his nails leaving white streaks through the red as he scratches furiously. 

"Stop that," Tony orders, trying to grab one of his arms. "C’mon, up the stairs now, we gotta get you in the bath."

"The bath?" Peter exclaims over his shoulder as Tony pushes him along. "What for?"

"Pep, we’ve got oatmeal, right?"

"In the cereal cupboard," Pepper answers. "Tony, there’s no peppermint in any of these. Morgan, careful, honey," she calls as Morgan scrambles up onto the kitchen counter to get the oatmeal. "I don’t understand what’s made him react so badly."

"I’m just glad he’s breathing," Tony mutters. 

"I am still here, you know," Peter grumbles from the top of the stairs. 

"Why? You should be in the bath."

"I don’t even _like_ baths - "

Tony glares mildly up at him. "Oh, so you’d rather be a walking blister instead?"

Peter groans and disappears out of view, Morgan on his heels as she scampers up the stairs with the box of oatmeal. 

"He can’t sit in the bath forever, Tony," Pepper says, coming to stand beside him. "We need to get rid of whatever caused it."

Tony scratches his chin. "Maybe he used that flowery fabric softener Happy loves and didn’t agree with it?" 

_"Boss,"_ FRIDAY suddenly says, _"I took the liberty of searching for all known irritants and repellants of arachnids."_

"You’re one smart cookie, FRI," Tony praises, smiling up at the ceiling. "What’ve you got?"

_"Citrus fruits."_

"...Citrus fruits."

_"Yep. Like peppermint and lavender, they are known to repel spiders."_

Tony blinks. "They are?"

_"The peels of oranges in particular have been used for many years as a natural barrier to keep them from entering houses. It seems like Peter’s experiencing an allergic reaction, though thankfully it’s not as severe as his aversion to peppermint."_

Tony and Pepper both look over at where the kitchen table is covered in all their decorating paraphernalia, perfectly sliced oranges sitting amongst little puddles of juice and broken segments of peel, along with colourful strings and ribbons and popsicle sticks. Peter’s weird little shudder and the red marks on his face from where Pepper had touched him suddenly make a lot more sense. 

"Well, shit," Tony sighs. "So much for that plan."

Pepper kisses his cheek. "It was a nice idea. Go help Peter while I get rid of the evidence."

"See if Gerald wants some of the oranges."

"That alpaca is getting nothing from me until he stops eating my flowers."

Tony chuckles softly as he jogs up the stairs. 

Morgan meets him at the top. "Daaaddyyy, Peter’s wearing his underwear in the bath."

"I didn’t pack my swimming trunks!" Peter calls from behind the partially closed door. "I’m protecting my modesty."

"Have you seen what your alter ego swings around in?" Tony says over the sound of running water as he steps into the room. "Trust me, your modesty is not at stake here." His gaze meets the very unhappy scowl being thrown at him from within a bath full of more oatmeal than water. "Your dignity, on the other hand…"

Peter huffs. "It’s slimy."

"That’s what happens when you get in before it’s had a chance to mix with the water properly." Tony picks up the now completely empty oatmeal box with a raised brow. "Or use the entire box."

"Morgan insisted."

"Oops," Morgan whispers from the doorway, giving them both a sheepish smile before scampering away, calling out to Pepper about having a snack as she goes. 

Tony flicks open the cupboard beneath the sink and retrieves a small net pouch. "The oatmeal is supposed to go in here, genius," he tells Peter, swinging the pouch around by its drawstring. "You’re meant to lightly infuse the water, not make porridge."

Peter scratches his neck with a very loud groan. Perching on the edge of the tub, Tony scoops a handful of the soggy mixture up and throws it against Peter’s chest, causing him to squawk indignantly. 

"What was that for?"

Tony throws more at his shoulder. "I’m trying to fix this whole lobster aesthetic you’ve got going on."

"By covering me in slimy oatmeal?"

"It’ll take the itch away." Tony rotates a finger. "Let me slap some on your back."

"God, this is definitely going in the top ten weirdest moments of my life," Peter grumbles, leaning forward and twisting sideways. "How do you even know this’ll work anyway?"

"Worked for Morgan when she had chickenpox," Tony says as he spreads a thick layer over Peter’s shoulders. "Spent three days more or less camped out in here with her. Was like living with an angry seal dipped in camomile lotion."

At Peter’s soft laugh, Tony grins and flicks him on the ear. "Yeah, you laugh now, kiddo, but it’ll happen to you one day."

"So, what, this is like a life lesson?"

"No, this is a reminder that you’re a walking disaster who is allergic to stupid things."

Peter frowns. "What?"

"Oranges. Citrus fruits. Spiders don’t like ‘em." The water is almost up to Peter’s shoulders now so Tony turns off the taps. "Another one for allergy bingo I’m afraid, Pete." 

"Seriously?" Peter sighs in frustration. "I mean, I was never a big fan of oranges anyway, much more an apple or banana kinda guy, you know, but this is still ridiculously unfair."

Tony gets another handful of the congealed oatmeal and smears it across Peter’s chin and left cheek, yanking his hand away when Peter whines in outrage. "It could be worse, you know. You could be allergic to pineapple."

"Don’t even joke about that."

Tony huffs out a laugh. Peter squints up at him through one eye, the other closed under the spread of oatmeal covering almost half of his face. 

"How you feeling?"

"Slimy."

"Better than itchy."

"Yeah." Peter rubs some of the oatmeal onto his other cheek and down the side of his neck. "So what’s my compensation for the fact that you almost accidentally killed me?"

"Excuse you, you were nowhere near close to dying."

"But I could have been."

"Yeah, but you weren’t." 

"I want pancakes."

"You’re sitting in literal porridge, kid. Don’t say I don’t give you anything."

The grins they’re both fighting to contain break loose and they quietly laugh together. Peter swishes his hands lazily through the murky water. "How long do I have to stay in here?"

"Until you stop looking like a strawberry."

"Great."

Tony ruffles Peter’s hair, inadvertently mixing clumps of oatmeal into the messy curls. "I don’t know what you’re so grumpy about. People would pay hundreds of dollars for something like this at a spa."

"For what?" Peter gestures to himself. "Looking like a swamp monster?"

There’s no real reason for the sudden spike of fondness Tony feels deep in his chest; it just happens, warm and familiar, unrestrained and free. 

"You’ve got one of those dumb looks on your face again," Peter says, a soft smile lighting up his own face beneath the sticky mess, like he knows exactly how Tony is feeling. Which he probably does, the wily little shit. 

"This coming from the self proclaimed swamp monster? Outrageous." Tony reaches over to grab one of Morgan’s bath toys, a small red bucket, drags it along the bottom of the bath to collect chunks of oatmeal, then holds it out to Peter. "Now behave yourself and eat your breakfast."

**Author's Note:**

> Me and hailing have had such a great time working on this series together so we really hope you're enjoying all the fics so far, and will enjoy the rest to come!
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


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